


Nightmare

by ComyD



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Black Empire, Blood and Gore, Death But Not Really, Desperation, Dreams and Nightmares, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Good End, Loss, M/M, Old Gods, Shadow Anduin, Violence, Visions of N'Zoth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComyD/pseuds/ComyD
Summary: An alternate telling of the Visions of N'Zoth. Where Wrathion does go into the Keep.
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so I decided to dabble in Wranduin. I hope I was able to keep him in character.

The smell of burning is strong. The acrid smoke and what he hopes _ isn’t _ the scent of burning flesh, choke him. Red eyes snapping open. Wrathion coughs- how utterly ridiculous.  _ A dragon choking on smoke!  _ He quickly regains his bearings. Now that he has- _ unfortunately _ , become accustomed to the smell and taste of the surrounding air. He wishes he had stayed blinded.

_ This is Stormwind? _ Surely there’s been a mistake. Wrathion scans the surrounding area. The buildings seem familiar- yet they are unfamiliar. The sky is dark, as if a perpetual nightfall has descended. Yet there are no stars, no moon, _ no light _ . Realizing he’s kneeling in the street-  _ how undignified _ , he rises to his feet. His trousers feel wet, at the knee. Glancing down, he almost falls over. The streets are running with blood!  _ He had been kneeling in blood! _ A bout of dizziness hits him, the metallic tang of blood now assaulting his senses. 

Eyes wide he can hear the sounds of screams. Horrible screams- the kind that speak of untold pain and suffering. He staggers, needing to compose himself. He came here for a reason. His mind is foggy, and he swears he can feel something brushing against his ear, as the whispers in his head grow louder.

_ Too late. No hope. No light. Gone. _

_ Light! Anduin! _ He frantically whirls around, trying to suss out where he is exactly. The surrounding carnage makes it hard to gain his bearings. All around him, horrific void manifestations seem to creep out, from every crack. He recoils as cancerous blobs cling to ruined builds. They pulsate - oozing such malice into the atmosphere, the city feels as if it’s having the very life choked from it. Wrathion suppresses a shudder.  _ He has to find Anduin _ . Has to make sure the king- no! His  _ friend is _ safe.

He takes off towards what he hopes is a main road. As much as it pains him, he pays no heed to those souls sitting amongst the ruins. He can’t help them,  _ but Anduin can! _ Anduin who is a pillar of light and virtue! He could easily overcome this nightmare! Feeling the burden in his heart lessen, Wrathion picks up speed. Thinking of Anduin keeps the whispers at bay.

He should be at the Cathedral. He blinks- sure that what he’s seeing can’t be real. Tentacles wrap around the once pristine building. Digging into the stonework, hard enough that fissures have appeared. Wrathion swears he can hear laughter in his head.

_ Fall! Crumble! Despair! No Hope! No Light! _

Wrathion can only watch feeling helpless, as a tentacle tightens around the building. He can hear the structure groan- as pressure is applied. Glass cracks and shatters. Wrathion can hear screams from within the building. Had people sought refuge? Hoping the light would protect them? 

_ Foolish. _

Shaking his head Wrathion hesitantly turns his back. The longer he lingers, the more likely to succumb to the madness he is. He must find Anduin. He knows seeing the face of Anduin will make everything better- somehow. Wrathion needs to see Anduin. Needs to know he is safe. He would not fail his only friend a second time.

He clambers over rubble, trying not to think about what it was, or who might be within. The keep should be visible, if he can just get to the keep. His throat stings, the smoke still thick in the air. He does his best to avoid the void manifestations. Almost stumbling when he comes across the dying form of Turalyon. The paladin's breath is shallow and his unseeing eyes stare through Wrathion.

"My son… my son…" the dying man rasps out, before he gives a shuddering gasp and goes still. Wrathion releases the hand, he hadn't realized he'd held. It's one thing to know about death, but to actually see it this close. He feels cold. Turalyon had been a man of the light and judging by what Wrathion had seen, he had remained uncorrupted. The need to find Anduin, to make sure the king wasn't harmed. It's overwhelming. Wrathion tries not to think about why his feelings are all over the place as he scrambles back to his feet. The keep is just down this road!

He’s panting as he reaches the keep. Dread creeps upon him. Cold tendrils of fear, slither over him- rather like tentacles, constricting around him. Squeezing. His heart races, as his eyes try to comprehend what he’s seeing. Stormwind Keep, hasn’t been spared. All around creatures of the void slither and ooze from the very walls themselves. Is he too late?

_ Far too late. _

The whispers grow louder, sounding more like murmurs. He spins, that voice had sounded far too close for comfort. His stomach churns uneasily. Not sure what to make of the declaration. He closes his eyes, bidding his mind to focus on Anduin; _ Him and Anduin playing a board game. He and Anduin lounge about the inn. _ His eyes shoot open, though it’s blurry. Wrathion pays it no heed, wiping his eyes with a sleeve as he ventures into the keep. The throne room, he’s not sure how he knows- but that’s where he must go.

Pieces of bloodied armour lay scattered throughout the corridors. He does his best not to focus too hard on the dark smears on the walls and ceilings. Tentacles of void, slide out on the floor, writhing and twisting. Laying in wait. They move surprisingly fast, he has to use his wits more than once to avoid them. He has no desire to join those whose pieces litter the keep. He’s almost there! The large, ornately carved wooden doors are just ahead, a few more feet!

_ You won’t like what you find. _

A whisper, a voice that seems familiar- his own perhaps. Echoes in his mind. For the first time he hesitates, staring at the doors. Fear trails up his spine- like spiders crawling over him. He curses, willing his feet to move. Anduin is just in there- just out of reach. Wrathion growls in frustration, pushing himself- his feet slowly move. The steps ring out in the corridor- the keep oddly quiet. He  _ should _ stop,  _ should _ come up with a better plan. The allure of seeing Anduin is too strong though. He can endure anything thrown at him, as long as Anduin is at his side.  _ As long as Anduin is safe _ . He will not run away, not again.

Wrathion’s eyes widened. He’s in front of the doors. Trying to take a calming breath, his heart hammers in his chest, the sound like drums in his ears.  _ This is it. _ Finally, _ finally _ he’s here. Anduin is just within reach.  _ Everything is going to be fine. _

The doors open with an ominous creak, the sound bounces off the stone walls. Like nails on a chalkboard. But he doesn’t care- can’t care. Anduin is there! Anduin is sitting on his throne, he’s unharmed! Wrathion practically bounds towards him. 

_ Splash. _

Wrathion halts. He looks down at his feet, where the sound came from. There’s blood- everywhere. It congeals in dark pools beneath his feet, and he recoils back. It’s like a fog has lifted from his mind. Eyes wide he actually looks around the room. There are so many corpses. He fights down bile when he sees the broken form of Greymane. The man looks so shocked- sightless eyes wide and staring at him accusingly. Fear prickles along Wrathion’s senses. What happened here?

_ Drip.  _

Alarmed Wrathion looks up at Anduin. He wishes he hadn’t. The young man is sitting staring contemplatively at him. Shalamayne laid across his lap. The blade is heavily stained, blood dripping slowly from the tip.  _ Drip. _ It’s like time has stilled.  _ Drip. _ He must be imagining things.  _ Drip. _ The madness has taken him. Surely it must! He prays it has, hopes it has with every fibre of his being. His legs give out, and he can’t bring himself to put any effort into caring about what he’s kneeling in.

_ Too late. He’s mine now. He’s gone. _

The whispers sound maliciously gleeful in his head. His face is wet. With shaking hands he reaches up- how long has he been crying? Anduin just stares at him. Eyes thoughtful. _ Eyes that are no longer that perfect shade of blue _ . Anduin rises suddenly, he smiles at Wrathion and for a moment, he looks so much like himself Wrathion wants to laugh and dismiss the whole thing as a nightmare. But then the smile turns cold- it’s like a stranger stands before him. Stalking towards him like an executioner.  _ Does it even matter now? _

He wants to give up. There’s no future without Anduin-  _ his _ Anduin. His heart aches and with a sudden jolt it hits him.  _ He’s in love with Anduin _ . Has  _ always _ been in love with Anduin. He wants to laugh and cry and scream all at once. Why didn’t he realize sooner!? Why did he waste so much time!? Anduin comes to a stop before him, crouching down, so they are eye level. Wrathion jerks back. Those cold eyes meet his own, it’s like the air has been pulled from his lungs. _ Wrong.  _ This is so very wrong.

“I’m glad you came.” Anduin says conversationally. Wrathion feels his eyes widening at the statement. “Join me. Help me rebuild the Black Empire. We can make it better, stronger and last for thousands of years.” Anduin beams, holding his hand out to Wrathion. Eyes glittering with a mockery of Anduin’s usual enthusiasm.

_For a second he’s tempted._ He’s ashamed to admit it. For one second he contemplates living with this lie, with this false Anduin. He’s so sickened with himself, anger roiling hot and heavy in his belly. Was he going to betray Anduin again!? **No!** _Never!_

“Stop.” Wrathion growls out. Hating the way his voice croaks, the obvious distress and pain he feels so very evident. There’s a silence, tense, thick and heavy hanging between them. Anduin just stares, eyes flashing in thinly veiled anger. 

“Are you going to betray me,  _ again? _ Are you going to turn tail, run away and leave me,  _ again!? _ ”

The words pierce Wrathion like a blade. Anduin may as well have just run him through with Shalamayne. Wrathion's hand grips his shirt, just over his heart. Fisting it into the material- _ it hurts, it’s agony.  _ He’s never felt like this before-  _ never felt so wretched. _ He wants to howl, to take his true form and burn it all away. Burn himself away. 

“You’re always leaving me behind.” The voice is so soft and so familiar he can’t help but let out a small sob. Anduin- twisting the knife deeper, wounding him in a way far more effective than with an actual weapon. Despite the words, the intention behind them is… cold? Lacklustre? _ Wrong. _

**“Don’t.”** Wrathion snarls, righteous anger suddenly filling him. “Don’t speak in  _ his _ voice.” He forces himself to look up and meet Anduin’s eyes. “Don’t use  _ his _ words.” He smacks the hand that had been on his shoulder-  _ a mockery of comfort _ . Anduin hisses at him, glaring as his hand is knocked away. 

“Anduin would never-” His voice chokes, but he forces himself to continue. “He would  _ never _ have hurt his subjects.” 

Anduin stares at him for a moment before bursting out into laughter. It’s unnatural. Cold, hollow, emotionless. There’s nothing of Anduin in there. His hope is gone. Stormwind is lost. The Alliance is lost.  _ He’s _ lost.

_ Failed. You failed. You failed him. _

The whispers tease and taunt him. He growls, trying to resist. Anduin has stopped laughing and resumed his staring. Wrathion sneaks a look at Shalamayne. The sword normally glowed with Anduin’s light, if it was still shining then maybe-  _ he feels sick _ . How had he not noticed? The blade is glowing with an eerie purple-ish glow. There’s nothing of the light about it. Anduin’s face sneers at him as he follows the dragon’s line of vision.

“The light wasn't strong enough. It failed me, so I shunned it. Embrace the void Wrathion, embrace the power of shadow.” Anduin is lowering himself before him again, a twisted version of a sweet smile on his lips. A hand reaches out to cup his face-  _ it’s so cold. _ He wants to run, run away and never look back. His Anduin wouldn’t abandon the light. 

“We can do away with the factions, unite them all under the Black Empire. Just think, a world without war.  _ Isn’t that what you wanted? _ ”

Wrathion flinches. Those words cut deep. A backhanded jibe at his betrayal in Pandaria. He reaches out to grasp Anduin’s hand, pressing it closer to his face. Anduin looks confused, golden brows furrowing.

“Is there  _ anything _ of you left in there?”Wrathion whispers out. He closes his eyes- he couldn’t bear to look and see what he knows to be the truth. Anduin is oddly silent. Wrathion lets out a shuddering breath, daring to open his eyes. Anduin stares blankly at him, eyes cold and unforgiving. There’s no flicker of recognition, no shadow of remorse-  _ just nothing _ . Somehow it’s worse. It makes the ache with him feel like a gaping void. Anduin was gone. There was no saving him, no chance to ever tell him how he felt.

_ “Pawns that don’t know their place are useless to me.” _

Wrathion has a split second to react, just narrowly avoiding being decapitated. He’s splayed on the floor, almost face to face with the remains of Greymane. He bows his head, angry at himself. Angry with the world. They had just been reunited.  _ Why? Why? Why!? _ He makes a silent promise then. Anduin would want him to protect Stormwind. Greymane’s eyes are boring into him. He reaches out and closes them, unable to bear the force of their judgement. He struggles to get to his feet, shoes sliding in the blood- and various body parts strewn across the floor.    
  
Anduin yells in frustration. Charging blindly at him. Wrathion frowns, finding it too easy to side step and avoid him. It’s like there’s no sense of reason left within Anduin. He’s become nothing more than a puppet of N’Zoth. He wants to shout back, at the unfairness of it. Why take Anduin? Wouldn’t it have been more fitting to take him instead? To have him repeat his sire’s path?

He watches Anduin transform from a beautiful young man, to some nightmare fuelled terror. Eyes wide, mouth gaping and an ungodly screech coming from his throat. It’s like his face twists, everything seems twisted. Wrathion is about to turn away and run. Leave this cursed room. But he can’t. He can’t leave Anduin. _ Even if it’s not his Anduin _ . Leaving would be abandoning him. 

Anduin’s managed to get his sword stuck. He struggles to pull it free. For a moment Wrathion pities him. Pities the creature wearing the skin of his dearest friend, of his love. Anduin howls and shrieks. Body twisting and jostling until Shalamayne comes free. He pants harshly, eyes glowering as they burn into Wrathion with such contempt. It hurts more than any words could. How many times had he imagined Anduin looking at him like that? And now it’s reality.  _ Oh _ , how he wishes it weren’t. He knows he deserves it. Deserves every word and every look- but it doesn’t lessen the pain any. To save Anduin there’s only one thing he can do, and it breaks his heart to even think about it.

Anduin charges him once more. There’s killing intent in his eyes. Wrathion prepares himself, he can stop this- he  _ must _ stop this.  _ Can he? _ Does he have the strength? Is Azeroth really more important than Anduin?

Anduin is right before him. Just like before he side steps, biting back his tears.The dagger is already in his hand as he collides with Anduin. The dagger he had saved to slay N’Zoth. It pushes into Anduin’s chest far too easily. The shocked gasp and wet gurgling sound that follows. He’s sure they will haunt him till his dying day-  _ no for eternity. _ Shalamayne clatters to the ground. Anduin slumps in his arms.

Wrathion slowly sinks to the ground, cradling Anduin in his arms. He will not leave him. Will not turn away. The whispers are loud in his head, but he tunes them out. All that matters is the young man in his arms. Anduin’s eyes flutter wildly. It’s painful to watch. He brushes hair from Anduin’s face. Doing his best to ignore the blood seeping from the king’s mouth. Anduin gasps, he’s struggling for breath, fighting the inevitable. Wrathion forces himself to not look away. He will live with the consequence. _ He did this _ , he brought them to this. 

Anduin stares at him, and Wrathion holds his gaze. He finds himself holding his breath as Anduin heaves out one last shallow breath. Off blue eyes stare into red. Wrathion trembles as the pupils dilate, then he knows Anduin sees nothing. Only then does Wrathion wail. He clings tight to the body in his arms, and he screams. He screams until he’s sure his throat is torn. Furiously kissing Anduin’s lips. Just like those ridiculous stories Anduin read to him in Pandaria.  _ Wasn’t that how the story went? Wasn’t a kiss of true love supposed to wake the maiden fair? _

Anduin is unmoving, eyes unblinking.  _ He’s gone _ . Truly gone. Wrathion can do nothing but stare helplessly until the pain becomes too much to bear, and he howls again. He sounds like a wounded animal rather than a dragon.

“Wrathion!”

He can hear someone calling his name. The voice is so achingly familiar. Hands are on his shoulder, the grip strong yet gentle. He feels himself being shaken, the sensation pushing feels so odd- like he’s not in his body.

“Wrathion!”

The voice is louder, sounding worried.  _ Who would worry about him? _ Anduin was the only person, and he was gone. Wrathion was tempted to lay down and wither away with him. What was the point of going on, if there was no Anduin to share in the adventure.

**“WRATHION!”**

He comes to with a sudden jolt. Eyes wide and wild. He flails fighting off the grip on his shoulders. It takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust, and what he sees shocks him. 

He’s staring up at the canopy of a bed. Not just any bed- the blue and gold make it obvious that this is Anduin’s bed. Frantically he sits up, head almost colliding with the young king’s. Anduin is staring at him, eyes wide and worried. Blue eyes. Perfect blue eyes.

Wrathion lets out a sob, reaching out to cup Anduin’s face. Fingers desperately tracing every contour of the blond’s face. Anduin makes a startled sound but stays still. Arms coming out to wrap round Wrathion. 

“Wrathion, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Anduin asks, voice so warm and concerned. Wrathion makes a strangled sound. His Anduin. This is his Anduin. Without thinking, he reaches up, kissing the other man as if trying to devour him. Anduin whimpers and falls back, Wrathion goes with him. Hands roaming all over Anduin, urgently seeking affirmation that the king was in fact alive and unharmed. Anduin giggles softly as Wrathion’s fingers ghost over his ribs. Ticklish. His Anduin is ticklish. He feels a warm hand cupping his face, thumb running along his cheek. Reluctantly he breaks apart.

“Wrathion are you crying?” Anduin asks, sounding a curious mix of astounded and concerned. Wrathion pulls away furiously wiping at his eyes.  _ How foolish. _ He was just dreaming. Anduin’s arms circle his shoulders, and he finds himself being pulled towards Anduin’s chest. He sniffles as he hears the strong heartbeat resonating within Anduin.

“It’s nothing. I-” Wrathion stops himself. He’s embarrassed to be caught so vulnerable, but if there’s one thing that dream showed him, it’s that he shouldn’t take tomorrow for granted. “I had a bad dream. I don’t want to talk about it now, but I will in the morning.”

“Is this because of the visions? Because of N’Zoth? I knew there would be lingering repercussions. I guess he may be gone but certainly not forgotten.” Anduin says softly. Running his hand through Wrathion’s hair and massaging the back of his head. Wrathion can’t help but let out a small sob. 

“Promise me you will tell me. You really scared me! You were screaming and you sounded like you were dying! I was so afraid.” Anduin whimpers and now it’s Wrathion’s turn to hold his lover. Anduin snuggles in close. Wrathion can’t help but close his eyes and let out a shaky breath. That had been too real. Far too real for his liking. 

“I promise.” Wrathion says and he means it. Even if it makes him look weak, he wants to tell Anduin. Wants Anduin to tell him it won’t ever happen. A sudden need fills him. He rolls over, pinning Anduin down into the mattress. He kisses him thoroughly.

“Right now, I just want you.” He whispers out. Anduin blinks up at him, face going a beautiful shade of pink. His lover seems to be uncertain, clearly assessing if he’s in his right mind. How rude. How typical of Anduin. With a smirk Wrathion leans forward, kissing the blond again and pressing them closer. 

“Anduin.” Wrathion grows serious as he locks eyes with the young king. “I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”

Anduin blinks at him in confusion. Just staring trying to make sense of his words. For a second Wrathion is afraid he’s said too much. Then Anduin is pulling him down and kissing him.

“Anduin.” He suddenly blurts out. Anduin frowns at him for disrupting the kiss, but arches a brow waiting for him to continue. “I love you.” There, He’s said it. Finally, admitted it out loud. Anduin gapes at him, and Wrathion is afraid that he’s about to be rejected. Instead, he finds himself pulled into a bone crushing hug- by mortal standards. Anduin is peppering his face with sweet kisses.

“I never thought you’d say it first.”

Wrathion frowns at the words. Not sure if he’s been insulted in some way. But Anduin is smiling so openly at him, he forgets about his hurt pride. Anduin kisses him once more, this time with more heat, before pressing their foreheads together.

“Good. Because I love you too. Now can we get back to sleep, without you flailing all over me?”

Wrathion rolls his eyes dramatically. Trust Anduin to take a grand romantic gesture and make it humorous. For once, he can’t complain. Instead, opting to drape himself over the king, pleased at the squawk of protest he receives for his actions. Tomorrow they can be serious. But tonight, tonight he’s just going to enjoy that they are alive.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the old gut punch to the feels. Please don't come for me.


End file.
